The dueling platform was a circular stone slab in the Outer Court training grounds, surrounded by a smattering of disciples who had gathered, drawn by the rare sight of Wu Qinglan challenging a newcomer. The morning sun illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air.
I stepped onto the platform. My simple grey robes were stark against the faded green of the old stone. I was five feet ten inches tall, lean and strong from years of relentless, quiet training. I knew I was handsome a fact that had drawn whispers even within the ascetic environment of the Longwei Clan but now, my appearance was striking in a way that commanded attention. My left eye remained a clear, pale blue, but my right eye, the Heaven-Piercing Demon Eye, pulsed with a dangerous, vibrant red that betrayed the catastrophic power sealed within.
Wu Qinglan stood opposite me. He was composed, his stance perfect, his hand resting on the dark blue-wrapped scabbard of his sword. The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
"No fatalities, Longwei," Wu Qinglan repeated, his voice carrying the confidence of the sect's acknowledged genius. "But I will cripple your foundation to prove its instability."
"You are welcome to try," I said, my voice low and steady. My composure was absolute, but the challenge sharpened the cold rage I carried, the need for power.
Elder Wei stood outside the circle, acting as the overseer. He gave a sharp nod.
"Begin."
Wu Qinglan moved instantly. He was fast, his speed derived from the powerful Qi of his Upper Meridian Foundation. He didn't draw his sword immediately; his initial attack was a feint, a rush designed to test my reaction speed.
I activated the Heaven-Piercing Demon Eye and watched.
The world slowed, fracturing into threads. The Veilbreaker Sight confirmed his intention was a feint. The Insight of Ruin showed the real target: my right leg, intended to shatter my balance before the blade was even drawn.
I didn't dodge the feint. I let the subtle pressure of his rush graze my chest, giving the illusion that I was barely keeping up.
Wu Qinglan smirked, convinced of my weakness. He took a wide, sweeping step the precise movement he needed to anchor himself before drawing his sword and launching his signature technique, the Silent Peak Torrent.
Now.
I pushed the power of my Eye to its limit, focusing entirely on Wu Qinglan's system. I saw the complex, flawless circulation of his Upper Meridian Foundation Qi. It was a beautiful technique, except for one point.
As his weight settled onto his left foot for the anchor, the sheer volume of Qi required to power the Silent Peak Torrent created a brief, microscopic stagnation point in the capillary meridians near his left shoulder. It was less than 1 millimeter wide, a flaw inherent in his specific body structure, one that would never be discovered in a lifetime of ordinary cultivation.
I moved. I was only at the Middle Meridian Foundation Stage, far weaker than him, but I did not need force. I needed precision.
I did not attack his arm, his body, or his sword. I attacked the air directly next to him.
I channeled my Qi into a rapid, outward burst, using a crude application of the Pure Path Refining Scroll's principles. The burst was perfectly timed to intersect the point in space where his left shoulder joint would begin its backward rotation to initiate the sword draw.
THWACK.
My Qi strike was weak, barely more than a firm push, but the collision occurred at the absolute moment of the meridian's stagnation. The tiny capillary, already overstressed by the immense Qi preparing for the Torrent, suffered a clean, devastating rupture.
The effect was instantaneous and shocking.
Wu Qinglan's formidable Upper Meridian Foundation Qi, which had been coiled tight like a spring, violently recoiled. His sword technique collapsed before the blade was even two inches clear of the scabbard. A sharp, audible gasp of pain escaped his lips.
He didn't fall, but his entire left arm went slack, his sword dropping uselessly to the stone. The complex flow of his Qi circulation had been instantly and cleanly severed at the shoulder. He was temporarily crippled.
The entire exchange lasted less than two seconds.
The platform was silent. The gathering disciples stared; mouths slightly agape. They had seen the genius, Wu Qinglan, defeated by a single, inexplicable touch from a newcomer.
Wu Qinglan stared at me, his eyes wide, no longer arrogant, but filled with shock and absolute confusion. He frantically tried to reassert his Qi flow, but the circulation stalled, choked by the rupture.
"How," he grated out, gripping his paralyzed shoulder. "It was... a pressure point that shouldn't exist."
"Your technique is superb," I conceded, lowering my stance. "But even the strongest torrent finds a broken bank to flow through. You are a genius, Wu Qinglan, but your physical vessel has flaws. I simply targeted the truth of your structure."
Elder Wei surged onto the platform, his face a mask of shock and clinical analysis. He grabbed Wu Qinglan's wrist and probed his meridians. His eyebrows shot up.
"Clean," Elder Wei muttered, disbelieving. "The strike was precisely positioned on the tertiary capillary leading to the Shoulder Gate. No external force, just a perfect internal shockwave. It will heal, but the technique is disabled for weeks."
He turned to me, his gaze now penetrating, burning with a mix of fear and fascination. He glanced at my red-and-blue eyes, then back to the defeated genius.
"Jian Longwei," Elder Wei announced to the stunned crowd. "The duel is concluded. The newcomer is victorious."
The crowd erupted in a confused roar. The whispers of 'fraud' were instantly replaced by whispers of 'monster' and 'hidden genius.'
Elder Wei ignored the noise and approached me, his voice lowered, carrying the weight of command. "That level of precision is not natural talent. It borders on divination. I don't care about your secrets, but the Pavilion requires growth, not stagnancy. You have demonstrated speed, stability, and surgical control far exceeding the Outer Court's requirements."
He pressed a small, plain jade token into my hand.
"Effective immediately, your status is elevated. You are no longer Outer Court. You are promoted to an Elite Disciple," Elder Wei stated. "Your new rank requires immediate focus on forming your Core. You will report to the Central Archives. You now have access to the Core Condensation techniques."
The Core Condensation Archives. That was the prize. The next key in the blueprint for the Heaven-Piercing Demon Eye. The power to accelerate my journey toward the Spirit Sea, where I would unlock Stage 3 and begin actively interfering with the fatal destiny threads of my enemies.
I bowed, accepting the token. The pain of the Eye's usage was already receding, replaced by the grim satisfaction of progress.
Wu Qinglan still knelt on the platform, staring at his useless hand, his self-confidence shattered. He wasn't a bad person, merely arrogant. But he was now a witness to my power.
I met his gaze, my right red eye clear and unforgiving. He saw the truth of his defeat.
"Your foundation is sound, Wu Qinglan," I told him, offering a shred of cold comfort. "You will heal. But your sword technique carries a flaw you must now correct. See it, or it will break you again."
I turned, leaving the stunned genius and the murmuring crowd behind. My path had just cleared significantly. My revenge required a Core. And now, the Silent Path Pavilion was forced to give me the tools to build it.